Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
A splash of color on the kitchen island. Flowers. A bouquet of white and pink lilies in a crystal vase.
I stopped, my body going rigid. Those flowers hadn’t been there earlier. I would have noticed. I noticed everything in this house, especially after the fire.
My jaw clenched as I approached the flowers, suspicion coiling in my gut. The lilies were beautiful, pristine, their petals perfect and untouched. Beneath the vase, there was a small white card.
I picked it up and turned it over.
The handwriting was unmistakable, instantly recognizable—elegant, precise, with a cruel flourish that only one man possessed.
I’m sorry for your loss... again.
—Matteo
The card fell from my fingers, fluttering to the counter like a poisonous leaf.
My body shook violently as I gripped the edge of the island, knuckles turning white.
No one was supposed to know.
We hadn’t announced the pregnancy. No one fucking knew.
We’d kept it a secret, protecting the fragile life growing inside Serafina from the dangers of our world. No one knew of the baby… and certainly, no one knew of the miscarriage.
But Matteo knew. My brother had found out.
I’m sorry for your loss... again.
The words echoed in my mind, taunting me. Again. He had said again.
Rage surged through me like a tidal wave, obliterating everything in its path. It burned through my veins, hot and corrosive, consuming every rational thought, every restraint I’d ever possessed, every shred of control I had left.
The darkness inside me, the monster I’d kept caged for Serafina’s sake, broke free with a vengeance.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
I needed to move. I needed to act. I needed to destroy something. Him.
I stalked out of the kitchen, my movements jerky with barely contained fury. The need for violence devouring me, a hunger so intense it blinded me to everything else. I grabbed my keys from the entry table, not bothering with shoes or a jacket.
I had to find him.
I had to make him fucking pay.
I slid behind the wheel of my car, my hands clenching around the steering wheel with such force that my knuckles cracked.
A growl built my throat, as I pulled out of the driveway, my chest shuddering with the force of my violence.
He was responsible for Serafina’s pain.
He was the reason behind the rage that consumed me.
He was the reason why Elizabeth—
Fuck.
FUCK.
My heart caved into the hollow of my chest, my stomach tightened as agony sliced through me.
A memory flashed through my mind with brutal clarity.
The smell hit me first—copper and something rotten, something sweet that made my stomach clench.
Death. I knew that smell too well that I would recognize it anywhere.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I pushed open the door to the apartment, my hand already reaching for the gun at my waist.
The silence was deafening. Wrong.
Elizabeth should be here. She should have been moving around, humming to herself as she prepared dinner, her belly round and full with our child.
“Beth?” I called out, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. “I’m back early. The meeting was canceled.” The man had already been dead when I got there. Too frightened to face me that he killed himself.
“Beth?” I called out again, my voice echoing in the quiet apartment.
No answer.
The hallway stretched before me, dark. I moved forward, my footsteps silent against the hardwood floor.
The smell grew stronger with each step and my throat burned.
I pushed open the bedroom door, and my world came to a screeching stop.
Blood.
The sight of it stole the air from my lungs so violently, my body forgot how to move.
No…
Then the horror hit.
It wrapped around my throat like icy hands, crushing the breath from my chest as disbelief tore through me with brutal force.
The room tilted. My pulse roared in my ears.
Blood was everywhere. On the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything was stained crimson. It had sprayed across the room in uncontrollable arcs, painting a grotesque masterpiece of violence.
It was still wet in places, glistening under the dim light from the bedside lamp.
My body shook as I took a step forward, my foot sliding through a pool of blood. I caught myself against the wall, my lungs squeezing so hard I couldn’t fucking breathe.
I slipped through the blood, desperate to reach her, my shoes making wet, sticky sounds against the hardwood. Each step sent a fresh wave of horror through me.
Elizabeth laid on the bed, her blonde hair spread across the bloody pillows, her beautiful face frozen in an expression of absolute terror.
Her eyes were open, staring at nothing.
Her nightgown was torn, her body…
God, her body.
I couldn’t process what I was seeing.
Her stomach—the stomach that had been swollen with our child just a day ago, was cut open, her organs spilling out onto the blood-soaked sheets. The brutality of it was unimaginable, a cruelty that defied comprehension.
A roar tore from my throat, feral and broken.